


Work & Play

by a_q



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caning, Community: kink_bingo, Conversations, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's healthy to discuss things with your boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work & Play

Clint sat at the other end of the lab, feet propped up on the table. He had asked if he could work on his reports here, but he had mostly watched something on the computer in low volume and eaten candy. Bruce had seen SHIELD report forms. He wouldn't have filled those either if there was a choice. 

Bruce liked his company, though Clint was a serious distraction. It was difficult to focus on the numbers on the screen, when Clint sat behind him. Bruce wasn't used to the thought of a relationship, let alone the practical aspects of it, but he figured it would be rude to ask him leave. Or he could ask him to come over so they could kiss for a while, but that wouldn't help him focus either. It would be fun though. 

He was occupied with this problem, and wondering that he had such a problem in the first place, so the chime of the electronic lock startled him. He turned, swiping the screen empty as a precaution. The project wasn't that exciting, but you couldn't be too cautious. He had precedents after all. 

“I'm sorry, have you seen Tony go past in last ten minutes?” Pepper asked, standing in the doorway and holding the door open with her shoulder. 

Bruce had never seen her on such casual clothing, it was like she was about to go for a run, or to play some sport. She had a stick with her, a red one. She held it lightly, like she had forgotten she had it in her hand. Bruce didn't know what sport was in the fashion these days, but she looked great, energetic.

“I haven't seen him all day,” Bruce said. “It's been quiet.”

“Me neither,” Clint called from the back, leaning back on his chair to get a better look. “Doesn't Jarvis know?”

“Ah, I don't need Jarvis for this. Tony's being a pest, that's all,” she said, looking around once more, like she suspected Tony had hid somewhere under the table without them knowing it. “Thank you, I'm sorry to bother you.”

“I hope you find him,” Bruce said but she had already turned around, the glass door closing behind her. Bruce turned back to the screen, swiping the figures back to their place. 

“Well, there was the proof finally. Pepper Potts is a human,” Clint said. “I was worried, you know. If there's anyone who could build himself a perfect girlfriend, it's Stark. That never ends well. Or not in any movies I've ever seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“The red cane she had,” Clint noted. “No one can stand Stark for that long with that amount of patience, unless they are either a robot, or get to beat the crap out of him once in a while. That's very emotionally healthy for her.” 

Bruce looked at the door, recalling her appearance. “That stick was a cane?”

“Acrylic, by the look of it, and smart touch with the color. I can't imagine Stark taking well to the rattan, too low tech for him. Though I think the organic materials have the best sting.”

Bruce turned back to the computer. “Is that what you like? Rattan?” He tried to make it sound like a casual question. He could ask something like this from his boyfriend. Discussions about desires and fantasies were allowed in a relationship. Encouraged, even. He had read it from a discarded fashion magazine left in a train station seat in São Paulo. His Portuguese had been shaky, but he was sure he had got that right. 

He heard the chair squeak as Clint stood up, the quiet steps as he walked to him. He knew Clint could walk without a sound, but he had noticed that he never did that around him. It was thoughtful, and sweet. 

Clint wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed against his back. “I'm happy with what we do. I told you, I'll follow your pace, it's no problem for me. I meant it,” he said quietly. 

“I don't want you to give up on everything for my sake,” Bruce said, staring at the screen. “If there's something you enjoy, you can keep doing that. You should. I don't mind.”

“Without you?” Clint let go of his waist, the warmth of his body gone. He leaned his hip against the table, folding his arms, watching him closely. Bruce glanced at him. He didn't look upset, more quizzical than anything else. “That doesn't sound like fun.” 

“I know the connection between pain and pleasure, and in all honesty, I would like to explore it with you, but the Other Guy won't understand,” Bruce said. “It's safer if I'm not part of it, but I don't mind if you play.”

“I understand that, but you could be part of it in other ways.” Clint pulled him closer, arm around his waist again. “If I got caned, would you like to inspect the damage, count the welts? Tend the wounds, kiss it all better?”

Bruce glanced at the screen to hide his surprise. He nudged his glasses, tried to look calm. Clint saw right through it, like always. 

“Kiss it all better, that's the one,” Clint muttered, stroking his back. “What else would you like to do? You could pick out the one who does the caning, give them a guideline for what you want done. Pepper might do it if you asked. I bet she's precise, methodical, relentless. Or Tasha? She has the stamina, and a wicked style. You would have to tend me all night after her ministrations. Do you like the sound of that? Or maybe you prefer the more traditional style? Coulson has a rattan cane, and he knows how to use it. It's intense.”

Bruce blinked, his mouth suddenly dry. He could imagine the conversation with Coulson, how Clint would come back to him, ass striped with red welts, row after row, maybe a few small, blooming bruises. How it would feel like to see him lay on his stomach on the bed, touch the marks. If he would wince when he pressed his hand too firmly against the sensitive skin. If Clint would even let him touch him. He might squirm away, curse him. Maybe he would have to grab his ankle, drag him back to him, order him to stay still when he said so. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would have to place an order for a second caning. 

Bruce felt hot and flushed just thinking about it. 

“You're making all this up,” Bruce said, trying to push the image aside. “You couldn't do it.” 

“Really? How's that?”

“You would have to stay still, for one. You get very...tactile when you're excited.”

“No I don't.”

“You have your hand down my pants right now.”

“You have that effect on me,” Clint said and pecked a kiss on his cheek. “I know how to take a caning right, don't worry. If you like the idea, and it feels like you do.” He didn't move his hand. Bruce didn't object what he was doing, but he was aware of the glass walls. He felt he had to give the common decency a chance here. 

“Please, no sex in the lab,” he said, kissing him quick as an apology. "We agreed on that." 

Clint let him go, nodding. “Yes we did, I'm sorry. I'll let you finish your work and then we can get out of here. Discussion like this needs more casual clothing anyway.” 

He smiled and walked back to his computer. He sat down and propped his feet up, leaning to click the show back on, the candy bag rustling.

Bruce straightened up his shirt, looking down to check that his fly wasn't open before turning back to the screen. He stared at the numbers. He had completely lost his thought, the numbers going this way and that without any sense. He tried to think of a solution. He could ask Clint to leave for half an hour, or he could ask him to come back and kiss him some more.   
The answer turned out to be simple.


End file.
